


whispers of different sort

by Spades



Series: Welcome To Night Vale Drabbles [3]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil is actually the biggest tease, M/M, Memories, Sex Pollen, inducing boners by being vague and chaste, tentadick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:44:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spades/pseuds/Spades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's flushed, staring down at the floor of the lab. Cecil's voice rings through the air, telling the world (okay, really, it was <i>only</i> most of Night Vale, but that wasn't the point) about how wonderful Carlos had looked in the moon light, leaving out the fact that he had Carlos on a few surfaces during the described moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	whispers of different sort

He's flushed, staring down at the floor of the lab. Cecil's voice rings through the air, telling the world (okay, really, it was _only_ most of Night Vale, but that wasn't the point) about how wonderful Carlos had looked in the moon light, leaving out the fact that he had Carlos on a few surfaces during the described moments. 

Carlos could only thank whatever merciful god there was that gave Cecil the restraint not to go on and on about how tight he had been, how he whimpered and begged and was generally a giant hot mess for the radio host. In fact, all he was really doing was waxing poetic about how his caramel skin glistened as he just gotten out of the shower, having needed one from the incident with someones (not real) clock beginning to bleed out green ooze. It had gotten everywhere, even his luscious locks, apparently. He didn't mention the way it had made Carlos burn, how it made his knees weak and chest tight. He didn't mention how hard Carlos had been after Cecil dragged him into the shower and left him there, nor how he had furiously attempted to jerk off with feverish need striking through him.

Oh yes, he definitely didn't mention that Carlos had howled with frustration and ran out of it clean and bare, tackling Cecil to the bed and rutted up against a thigh. Or how his hands eagerly ripped at the other's slacks to peel them away and free the multitude of friendly tentacles with whispered relief against a hip.

He squeezed his eyes shut and lifted his hand to his brow, rubbing tiny circles to relieve the budding pressure behind his eyes. He could tell this was what Cecil wanted. He wanted to conjure the memories of him sucking a tentacle into his mouth, an obscene kiss that twisted tongue and appendage together. He wanted Carlos to be hard as fucking nails and in a room with his friends and unable to get any relief without making himself out to be some depraved bastard or even worst, unable to control himself. He bites his bottom lip to stifle a quiet and unhappy noise that wanted to erupt from his throat. 

Cecil is still talking about how he looks and there's subtle cues that Carlos is picking up on now and he hates it. He hates that Cecil is making him imagine the way the first tentacle pressed in and went so deep that Carlos had come dry against the desk. That he had to have been maneuvered to settle on the bed, his legs thrown up in the air and held by long fingers, but firm grip. He remembers that the need for more was overwhelming and he had begged for more, begged Cecil to ruin him with taking two. He hates that he's reminded of how Cecil had chuckled and kissed him and called him perfect and wanting and asked him how badly he needed it. He had needed it so fucking much.

The pen in his hand shatters and he looks up and gives a weak smile at the people around him. Anne looks almost amused at the obvious darker tint to his face, Greg just waves him off and tells him to get home already. He can't say he's not glad for Greg in that one moment. 

The Weather had hit and Carlos just bolted. Unlocking the door and sending a _come here_ to Cecil. If Cecil comes over with a smug smile, kisses against a scruffy chin and says, _what a perfectly dirty picture you're making, sweet Carlos_ when he finds him with four fingers in himself, well, that's Carlos's fault. 

It's completely on Cecil if he decides to repeat the same thing the next night.


End file.
